


A Quiet New Year

by Jenny_Starseed



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, celebration, new year's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny_Starseed/pseuds/Jenny_Starseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is too tired to celebrate. Molly doesn’t mind it at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Year’s Eve (Molly/Martin)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes! I’ve finally written a Molly/Martin fic! Another first? No one prompted this. It was just something I was itching to write while I was stressed out with school work. It’s a bit fluffy since I believe you can never have enough fics where someone takes care of Martin.
> 
> None of the Characters are mine. One belongs to the Moffat and co., the other belongs to Mr. John Finnemore. Unbeta-ed and un-britpicked.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin and Molly celebrate the New Year in their own special way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I’ve finally written a Molly/Martin fic! Another first? No one prompted this. It was just something I was itching to write while I was stressed out with school work. It’s a bit fluffy since I believe you can never have enough fics where someone takes care of Martin.
> 
> This Chapter is rated PG.
> 
> None of the Characters are mine. One belongs to the Moffat and co., the other belongs to Mr. John Finnemore. Unbeta-ed and un-britpicked.

It was 10pm on New Year’s Eve and Molly was watching the telly alone in her flat. The bubbly wine was in the refrigerator and various assortments of crisps were on the table. She had baked Martin’s favourite chicken pie that was to be served with a side of toss salad. Martin had promised to spend New Years with her at her flat, but Carolyn had a last minute booking.

A group of Japanese millionaires suddenly had the urge to fly from Taiwan to Paris for New Year’s Eve. It had promised to be a lucrative trip since the millionaires were drunks who tipped big (according to Douglas that is, he apparently was an expert at predicting big tippers). The last minute nature of the flight meant that Carolyn could charge a very high price for their services. Martin had been bounced around the East Pacific for the last two weeks as a result of MJN Air doing holiday cargo flights and playing air chauffer to millionaires. Molly didn’t mind, it saved her the trouble of introducing Martin to her parents. He was always so nervous at the thought meeting them, but in Molly’s eyes, anyone was a step above Jim from IT. Still, she sometimes worried about Martin. He was always so overworked and tired whenever he saw her, despite the fact that he was finally making a living wage flying for MJN Air.

Molly’s thoughts were interrupted by a weak knock at the door. That must be Martin. Molly fixed her sparkly party dress and opened the door to find a very tired, red-eyed Martin Crieff at her door with his heavy bag slung over his shoulder. His usually pristine uniform was stained with what looked like vomit, his tie was loosened and his curly hair was longer and wilder than she had last seen it. There was a bit of stubble on him which made him adorably dishevelled. He was the very image of exhaustion.

“Oh Martin, you look awful,” cried Molly sympathetically. She pulled him inside her flat. “Here, let me take your bag and come in. I have your spare clothes in my room if you want to change into something more comfortable.”

“I’m sorry Molly,” said Martin. “I tried to get here as soon as I could. The train to London was delayed and the bloody Japanese millionaires would not get off the plane without an extra round of Christmas carols, sake and single malt whiskey. I really tried.”

“Do you want to use the shower?” asked Molly.

“No, that’s alright. I had showered yesterday and I’m too knackered to do much else,” explained Martin.

He took off his jacket and undid his tie as he tiredly walked to her bedroom where his comfortable spare clothes were. He took off his socks and trousers. He unbuttoned his stained white shirt and quickly changed into a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms and a worn grey t-shirt. He self-consciously blushed as he did so, which Molly found adorable. It was anything she hadn’t seen before, but Molly supposed that Martin had never got over the change room embarrassment of changing in front of another person.

She directed him to the kitchen after he finished changing, where she handed him a plate of his favourite food that he ate with relish.

“This is such a welcome relief,” Martin said in between quick bites. “I hadn’t had anything substantial in over five hours. Long flights mean MJN Air had to self-cater, which meant suffering through Arthur’s leftover Boxing Day surprise Gravy and pie. A pie stuffed with spam and BBQ flavoured crisps with a white gravy, which was a tin of mushroom cream soup heated in the microwave. It was terrible, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Molly this is wonderful! Real, unadulterated chicken! How I missed it!”

Molly could only smile at Martin while she poured him a glass of his favourite fizzy drink.

“Don’t mind me, I’ve already had dinner,” said Molly when Martin gave her a quizzical look.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You had to eat without me,” said Martin apologetically. “I know how rubbish it is to eat alone on a day like New Year’s Eve.”

“It’s not a problem Martin,” Molly assured him. “I’m glad to eventually have you home with me.”

Martin gave her one of his brilliant smiles that made Molly go all weak inside. “I’ve got the week off. Douglas was going to cry mutiny on the plane if Carolyn did not sign a paper promising us the next week off.”

Molly smiled at that. She loved him right then and there, sitting quietly in her kitchen while the telly was on in the other room. It was nearly 11pm and it was another hour before 2011 would pass. She had the telly on the BBC, showing a live outdoor New Year’s celebration that included many locally famous musical acts, dancing and singing to robotic, cheerful beats to roaring crowds. That was fine, they could have all the excitement they wanted outside, and Molly much preferred the quiet of her flat with her favourite person across from her.

Martin had finished eating and they washed and put away the dishes together, put the way the food and cleaned up. Martin was in no mood for bubbly wine or crisps. The food had improved his exhausted look, but he was still quite tired.

“Did you want to watch the countdown in my bedroom?”Molly asked shyly. “I know it’s bad, but I bought a small telly for my bedroom. I fall asleep on the sofa too much while watching television; I’d figured it would be better to fall asleep on my bed instead with the telly on.”

Martin nodded. “Bed sounds like a very good idea now.”

They settled on Molly’s bed, turned off the lights and turned on the telly. The music and the cheering crowd was still very loud and lively, taking up the whole room in its rambunctious enthusiasm for the New Year. Martin quietly embraced Molly, his long arm draped across her as he dosed quietly on her shoulder, his lightly freckled face illuminated by the eerie glow of the television. The poor man was so exhausted, he wasn’t going to be able to stay up for the countdown. That was alright. She can get her New Year’s kiss tomorrow.


	2. New Year’s Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin and Molly celebrate the New Year in their own special way. Yes, this is the NC-17 portion of the fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of the Characters are mine. One belongs to the Moffat and co., the other belongs to Mr. John Finnemore. Unbeta-ed and un-britpicked.

Martin woke up to the weak morning sun steadily streaming of the window. He was comfortably lying in a fluffy pink and white striped bed with Molly snoring softly next to him. He checked the time and it was only 10am. Sometimes it was still quite jarring for Martin to wake up in Molly’s bed. It was always so much quieter and softer in her bedroom. She didn’t live with six other rowdy agricultural students and her bed was much more luxurious and softer than his cheap second-hand twin bed. He loved mornings with her, her brown hair framed her face messily and the soft sounds of her sleep. Martin was naturally an early riser, but his exhaustion still weighed upon him. It was a brutal flight across Asia and Russia and the rest stops were anything but restful. Martin lived on black coffee and stale Danishes for many hours on end with an irritable and bored co-pilot beside him. It was a miracle that by the end of the two weeks, the employees of MJN Air did not tackle and strangle each other right there on the Fitton airfield.

He fell asleep for another hour before he woke to the smell of leftover chicken pie baking in the oven. Molly had left the bed and carefully cocooned him in her fluffy pink blankets. He untangled himself from the mass of pink fabric and found a spare pair of pants in the drawer. He quickly went to the bathroom for a quick shower, the warm water enveloping over him as he scrubbed and washed a day’s worth of grime and an a certain unknown quantity that comes with being stuck in an aircraft for eight hours straight. He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around him, his pink freckled face staring at him through the foggy steam of the bathroom mirror. He carefully took out a disposable razor from the cabinet and began shaving his two-day old stubble.

“You look very handsome with that stubble.”

Martin turned around and there was Molly, by the open door, her warm eyes filled with mirth. Martin felt his face coloured even more, he disliked being so exposed. His awkward skinny frame that denoted man-child rather than competent pilot was always a source of embarrassment for him. Not so much for Molly, as she racked her eyes over his body. She clearly liked what she saw. To Martin’s further embarrassment, he felt himself flush even more under Molly’s gaze.

“If....if you ne-need to you use the bathroom,” Martin sputtered.

“No, that’s quite alright,” said Molly. “I just came in to let you know that lunch is ready if you want any.”

“Thank you.”

Molly entered the bathroom and kissed him gently, getting some the shaving foam on her face. Martin wiped it off gently before she left. He continued to shave. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He looked for his clothes only to find that Molly had taken them. As if this could not get any more awkward for Martin, he self-consciously pulled the towel around him tighter and came out of the bathroom looking for his clothes.

“Molly,” cried Martin. “Where did you put my clothes? I really want them back.”

He found Molly sitting on the bed, saying nothing. She wordlessly went up to him and began to kiss him gently. Martin could only make a humiliating sound that was somewhere between a yelp and a muffled moan. The prospect of regular sex still had the ability to surprise Martin. It had been a good five years before Molly since he had a proper girlfriend to have regular sex with. He became so used to seeing all women as untouchable that it always caught off guard when a woman would actually want to have sex with him.

Not that Martin minded. Molly smelled lovely, her hair freshly washed with citrus shampoo and was soft to the touch. He loved running his hands through it while she kissed him continuously. She manoeuvred him onto her bed, his body was again engulfed by her fluffy pink blankets that he could only imagine clashed horribly with his pink face and red curls. Molly didn’t seem to mind. She methodically pulled off her clothes, stripping herself completely before straddling and kissing him.

If there was another thing Martin really liked, it was touching Molly. She was very soft and forgiving, his hands trailed her body with wonder, feeling every hair and mole under his finger tips. It felt so nice to have a warm body against him. He didn’t know how much he missed it until he had it. He knew at some point their love making would turn carnal, frantic and well...a bit undignified. But he savoured the quiet exploration that came before that as he sat up to take a breast into his mouth, enjoying the quiet sounds of satisfaction Molly made above him. She ran one of her small hands over his curly hair, pulling him closer to her.

“Lie down,” she murmured into his hair, pushing him back down onto the mattress.

She got off him to retrieve a condom from the dresser drawer. She returned and slowly unknotted the tight towel around Martin’s torso, revealing Martin’s penis, flush and erect against his stomach. Martin could only turn redder, he always hated being on display, but he let Molly do it because he knew how much she liked looking at him. He couldn’t help but squirm a bit when she rolled the condom onto him; it was always so odd when he had hands that were not his own on his penis. Luckily, his discomfort didn’t discourage Molly. In fact, it endeared him to her even more. She covered his body with hers, kissing him in places she knew he liked; the spot behind his ears, his jaw line and Adam’s apple while her hands caressed him gently. Eventually Martin enthusiastically forgot his discomfort, his hands running past her breasts, down her hips and to the side of her legs.

“Molly,” he panted. “Can we please...just...er...can you...can I...?”

Molly laughed. “As if you need to ask,” she said affectionately.

Martin sat up slightly, resting on his elbows. His head tilted back as a warm sigh left his mouth when Molly slowly lowered herself onto him. His eyes widened in lust and fascination as he concentrated on Molly’s slow movements, the slow way his penis re-appeared and disappeared into the soft folds of her body. He eventually collapsed onto the bed again, enjoying the sensations of sex. She felt fantastic against him, everything felt fuzzy and soft in Martin’s sex-addled mind.

“Martin, I want your hands on me,” said Molly.

“Where?” Martin asked dumbly.

“Everywhere. Anywhere you like,” Molly murmured.

Martin put his hands where every man in the fog of sex puts their hands, firmly on Molly’s breasts. He weakly held them and caressed them. Coherent thoughts drained out of Martin’s ears. He could only think with his eyes, fingers and lips. His hands were soon everywhere, touching and kissing everything he could, enjoying the wonderful sounds Molly was making and forgetting his own embarrassing ones.

He knew that they were rapidly descending into the undignified and ugly but utterly fantastic phase of their love making. It was when Martin happily lost control, not giving a damn about how he looked or how terribly stupid the sounds he made were. All that mattered was Molly was on top of him, rhythmically grinding against him as her face contorted while drinking in the very sight of him. Her eyes were filled with a hungry look, it would have frightened and intimidated Martin if he was not so overwhelmed with his own growing pleasure.

Molly came hard against Martin, sharp moans slipped from her lips as she shuddered on top of Martin. When she finished, she gave Martin a lovely smile before kissing him tenderly, her hands running through his long-ish curls. It felt so lovely to have Molly touch him and kiss him, all insecure thoughts had effectively left his head by now as the sensations took over. It wasn’t long before he broke her kiss with a desperately loud moan, his orgasm racking and shuddering through his body. His eyes were wide as he gasped and moaned frantically against Molly before his orgasm petered out into a warm feeling of satiation.

It was a few moments before his coherent thoughts returned. Molly got off of him. She retrieved some tissues to clean them up, discarding the condom before pulling the covers over them as she settled comfortably against Martin. She put her head on his chest, listening to his breath slow and calm. Martin always looked so lovely after sex, his face relaxed and all of his insecurities and prim reservations temporarily disappeared.

“I think our lunch has gotten cold,” Molly quietly murmured.

“Hmm,” was all Martin could say as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

He did sleep a lot after these long flights, thought Molly affectionately. She pulled the fluffy pink comforter up to their chins and laid there for a moment, watching Martin sleep soundly.


	3. New Year’s Afternoon with Cary Grant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin wishes he was Cary Grant. Molly reminds him that Cary Grant was once known as Archibald Leach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The film that Molly and Martin watched is Howard Hawks’ Only Angel Have Wings (1939). It’s a wonderful film about a small failing charter airline company and it seems to sum up every ideal Martin Crieff could have about flying.
> 
> It's been fun writing this. This chapter is rated PG-13.
> 
> None of the Characters are mine. One belongs to the Moffat and co., the other belongs to Mr. John Finnemore. Unbeta-ed and un-britpicked.

Molly got dressed in her comfy pyjama bottoms and t-shirt. It was going to be a quiet day where she was just content to lie around and do nothing with her boyfriend. Martin was fast asleep in her comfy pink bed, looking adorably ruffled after a morning of vigorous sex. She kissed him again gently on the cheek before leaving the room to have lunch and to watch a bit of crap telly. It was a good ninety minutes before a bleary-eyed Martin entered the kitchen, looking adorably ruffled in his sleep clothes.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep. Sex seems to do that...I mean I’m not saying you’re a bore after sex...you’re anything but boring! It was nice...I mean fantastic, not boring...” spluttered Martin.

Molly kissed him and ruffled his hair. “Silly man, you don’t need to explain,” said Molly softly. “I can reheat lunch for you. I found an old Carey Grant film you might like, it was one of my Gran’s favourite films when I was a child. You’ll like it, it’s about pilots and a small failing air cargo company...flying mail out of South America...You’ll like it!”

Martin forgot his awkwardness and smiled. “I’ve never heard of it, it sounds lovely.”

They sat on the sofa. Martin carefully ate his food, cautiously making sure he didn’t get any crumbs on her sofa. Molly put on the DVD and sat comfortably beside Martin. She ran her hand through his hair, enjoying the feel of those long curls. She hadn’t seen him in a month, so it was a surprise to see his normally trim and neat hair had grown into something a bit shaggier.

“I know I should have it cut,” he murmured self-consciously. “It’s not very professional looking. I just haven’t had the time and it’s a bit tricky to cut it myself without looking like a fool. I’ll get it cut tomorrow.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s different,” said Molly. “Please keep it for a little while? I like it.”  
“Well, I suppose I could keep it for another week before I go to work,” speculated Martin. “Since you like it so much.”

Martin finished his food and they settled quietly together watching the film. The dying winter light filtered through the windows, making the room feel quiet and dreary. The movie started, its dramatic music swelled and the two let the black and white images wash over them. Martin had never seen a Cary Grant film, but he would have given anything to be him. The man had such integrity and confidence, he had an easy professionalism and a charm that lacked the boy’s club smugness that Douglas embodied that so irked Martin. He loved the story; despite its bittersweet ending, it comforted Martin with its brave and professional pilots.

When the film ended, Martin curled up against Molly. “I wish I could be like Carey Grant.”

Molly planted a kiss on Martin’s cheek. “Don’t be silly. Not even Cary Grant can be Cary Grant. His was born with the name Archibald Leach, my Gran said he was born in Bristol. He was an English actor who moved to America for better prospects. See? No one is exactly who they seem. I wouldn’t want a Cary Grant for a boyfriend anyways. I wouldn’t know what to do with him. You’re fine just the way you are.”

Martin looked down on his awkward callused hands. There was nothing graceful about them. In fact, he had no grace at all. He was all boney limbs with a horse-like face, how can anyone like that? He often turned pink whenever Molly paid him a complement, he often didn’t know what to do with them. Sometimes he wondered if she knew who she was dating, her complements had no resemblance to the man he saw in the mirror this morning. He wasn’t going to say any of that to her, his last girlfriend broke up with him because he voiced his insecurities much too frequently for her liking.

“That was a wonderful film, Molly,” he said quietly. “I enjoyed it very much.”

“Consider it your Christmas gift. I know I didn’t wrap it properly, but I wanted to watch it with you...” Molly trailed off uncertainly.

“No, it’s fine!” insisted Martin. He gave her an affectionate hug and a big smile. “Thank you. Today made up for my incredibly exhausting non-holiday. I did mention I had the week off, didn’t I?”

“Then we’d better make it count,” said Molly mischievously.

Martin could only feel excited butterflies in his stomach as Molly hastily pulled him into her bedroom. It was going to be a very lovely start to the New Year, Martin wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
